Give Me Wings
by FearlessinBlue
Summary: Boggard Kinglsey makes a living covering up peoples regrets with his art, but when Marianne Fairfield roars into town with fire in her eyes and a broken heart he suddenly finds his world thrown upside down in the best of ways. Suddenly his hibernating heart awakes and Marianne begins to put herself back together. Love will force its way into their lives, whether they like it or not
1. Another One Bites the Dust

His alarm went off when the sun was already high in the sky and the street was bustling with activity, but the bedroom was still bathed in silence and complete darkness. Boggard "Bog" Kingsley groaned mournfully as the insistent blare relentlessly pulled him from the bliss of sleep. One long, lanky arm emerged from under a bundle of covers and slammed around on the night stand until he finally managed to silence the annoying device. Like a vampire rising from the dead he sat up and sleepily watched as the covers fell back onto the bed, hopelessly tangled in his fitful sleep. With another groan he pushed himself to his full height, suddenly towering over everything in the room.

Bog stumbled sleepily to the bathroom and proceeded to take a shower that consisted mostly of him staring blankly at the off-white tiles of the small cubicle and bending down slightly to rinse of the soap that he had half-heartedly rubbed into his hair. When he stepped out of his tiny shower the bathroom was filled with steam and one glance at the fogged up mirror was excuse enough not to shave. The stubble on his pointed chin would live to see another day. Bog's face was all hard angles and sharp features that he had inherited from his father. His cheekbones were high and very pronounced on his thing face and his pointed nose rested crookedly on his face, the result of one too many bar fights. He pushed his unruly black hair back so that it was out of his eyes and slicked back on his head. The stubborn locks refused to stay slicked down and instead one wayward hair draped down onto his forehead. Bog rolled his eyes at his hair's antics but decided to ignore it in favor of wrestling with his clothes.

A few minute later he shuffled into his small kitchen wearing ripped jeans and an old band t shirt. His gaze was locked on the antique coffee maker that was sitting innocently on the counter. He rifled around in the cupboards as the old machine started up and eventually he emerged victorious with a bag of coffee. As Bog waited for his coffee to magically fill his cup he slid on his warn black combat boots. They were about the only shoe that he could find that fit his huge feet. It seemed like for most of his life being his height and being skinny was more of a burden than a blessing. Especially with a mug like his.

Absentmindedly he rubbed at the prickly stubble that had taken up residence on his chin and desperately tried to push those poisonous thoughts out of his head for just one more minute. It had been nice waking up from a dreamless sleep for once and his head had been blessedly empty up until that moment. It was too late. Those poisonous little thoughts that whispered about how ugly and unworthy of love he was were erasing his good mood.

With a growl he forced himself to his feet. He snatched the familiar chipped mug off of its perch on the drying rack and angrily poured scalding coffee into his mug. He then slipped on his favorite leather jacket and left his apartment. Behind him the door slammed indignantly and the stairs echoed with the force of his steps. As he neared the bottom of the stairs the sound of people talking and music became louder until the walls were practically pulsing with the noise.

Bog yanked open the door at the bottom of the stairs and walked into a pub in the middle of lunch rush. He sipped his coffee as he gracefully made his way between tables towards the front door. He nodded to Stephanie, the bouncer and a childhood friend of his. The thick, muscular woman gave him a half smile but her steely eyes never left the interior of the bar. He dirty blonde hair was cropped short to her head and she was wearing a t-shirt with the name of the bar printed across it in big white lettering. The Dark Forest had been his father's bar and when his father had passed away Bog had inherited it. While he loved running the old place he divided his time between here and his Aunt's shop.

He had almost made it outside when suddenly a shrill voice echoed throughout the bar and stopped him in his tracks, "Bog!" An older woman with frizzy reddish brown hair hobbled up out of nowhere, dragging a stumbling young woman behind her.

"Look who I found just waiting around." Griselda Kingsley smirked and shoved the poor girl forward. She was obviously drunk already and had no idea what she was getting herself into. Bog took a deep calming breath and turned around to reluctantly address his mother and the latest 'wife material'.

"Guid mornin' mum." His deep voice rumbled with a thick Scottish accent and he warily watched as the girl in front of him swayed dangerously. Suddenly she stumbled over nothing and sent her fruity drink splashing onto the ground. The majority of it managed to soak the bottom of Bog's jeans and his boots. He snarled in disgust and he short temper flared up like a firework. His electric blue eyes practically sizzled with anger as he glared at his mother and the girl she had dragged along with her.

Griselda just ignored his furious look and quickly ushered the sloshed girl away from the mess. She waved her hands dismissively and the crooked grin on her face remained in place.

"Oh don't worry about her dear. There are plenty of lovely young women in the bar today. Care to take a crack at a few?" She winked and elbowed his side hard enough that he flinched and looked down at her in a glorious mix of fury and embarrassment.

"Mum. I dorn't-" he tried to protest but Griselda cut him off with another screech.

"THEO! COME CLEAN UP THIS MESS!" Almost immediately a short skinny guy rushed out from the kitchen with a mop and a bucket. He had an eager smile on his face and when he realized where the mess was it grew even larger. He hurriedly began mopping but all of his attention was focused on Stephanie.

"H-hi Steph." H greeted her tentatively and she spared him a slight smile and a head nod before going back to watching the lunch crowd. Theo immediately turned bright red and his grin became impossibly bigger as he happily mopped up the mess of drink.

"Now no more excuses Bog. I want you to go find a lady and charm the pants off of her." Griselda scolded her son who slumped slightly and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Mum ah dorn't hae time. Ah gotta get tae work." He growled out and like a flash of lightning Griselda's smile transformed to a disapproving frown and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't like that you are still working for that...that harpy!" She spat out the word like it had burned her and narrowed her eyes at her son. Dreading the idea of having this argument again, Bog slowly inched back towards the door. Before he could think of an answer there was a crash as the girl that Griselda had been pushing on Bog knocked over a stool and her own glass. In that moment of distraction Bog darted out of the bar and onto the street.

The sunlight hit him like a searchlight and he was momentarily blinded as his eyes tried to adjust to the onslaught of bright light. The bar had been dimly lit and his apartment was barely lit so the sudden intrusion of sunlight affected him more than usual. Cursing under his breath, Bog trudged down the street, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes burning slightly. He only had to walk a few blocks before he reached his destination, a small tattoo shop called 'Strange Magic' sat nestled between a restaurant and Bog's favorite bookstore.

His Aunt Aura Plum ran the tattoo shop and happily employed her favorite, and only, nephew on the weekdays during the afternoons. He specialized mostly in cover ups but occasionally he took a client that wanted something dark or too complex for Plum. Bog braced himself, his grip tightening on his coffee cup, and then pushed open the door. He was immediately assaulted by the sights and sounds that were unique to Plum. The short curvy woman was clad in a skin tight sparkly blue dress and her cotton candy pink hair was piled on top of her head in a messy style that looked vaguely like a beehive had been perched on top of her head. Her face was caked with colorful makeup and her body was covered in jewelry. She was pierced from head to toe, and sported an impressive tattoo collection, half of which she did herself.

Plum's work was impressive to say the least and she was the only person that Bog trusted with his own tattoos. As it stood both of his arms were covered in angry, dark vines, only broken up by leaves and the occasional pink primrose. The tattoos connected on his shoulders and became a set of dragonfly wings that had yet to be finished.

When Plum caught sight of Bog she put her hands on her hips and smirked teasingly at her nephew. "Well well well. Look who showed up." Bog just walked past her towards the secluded room that housed his station. The decor of the little shop was a mix between whimsical and just plain random but Bog's space was dark and comfortable and completely devoid of sparkles. As he walked past plum he was hit with a wall of her perfume and he had to cough slightly to dispel enough of it for him to breathe.

"Fuck Plum, ye wearin' enough perfume today?" He groused grumpily and Plum frowned for a moment before the mischievous glint returned to her eye. She followed Bog back to his station much to his chagrin and lingered in the doorway as he began to set up his equipment.

"You're just grumpy because today is the last day of the best." She grinned and Bog looked up at her in confusion for a moment before it hit him. Plum had a proclivity for tattooing matching tattoos for couples that came in. Didn't matter how cheesy or how bad, Plum would gladly tattoo just about any matching tattoo for half price. Unfortunately that gave the shop a reputation and most of their clientele consisted of lovesick fools looking to get matching ink. It made Bog sick. Not long after he became proficient in cover-ups, Bog made a bet with his Aunt that every tattoo that she did would end in a cover-up done by him. He was the only cover-up artist in town and made sure that the shop also had a reputation for sick cover-ups.

Only about a month ago Plum had tattooed two teenagers that had just graduated from high school with matching infinity signs that contained each other's names. Almost as soon as the customers left Bog had blurted:

"Ah give it a month." Plum had immediately accepted the bet and thus began their little competition. Bog always won.

They'll shaw up. Ah know it. Now lae me aloyn woman. Ah got stuff tae do." He smirked and relaxed in his chair, sipping his coffee like it was the only thing helping him keep his sanity. In a place like 'Strange Magic' it probably was. He had about an hour of alone time before the door jingled to signal that a customer had walked into the shop. After a minute, Plum's tense voice echoed back to his station.

"Bog... you have a customer." It sounded like someone was pulling her teeth the way she said it and a victorious smirk spread across Bog's face as he got up and strutted out to the lobby. Standing at the counter and refusing to look at Plum was the young girl that she had tattooed a month ago. When the girl saw Bog she hurried over to him and away from Plum who managed to simultaneously look hurt and angry. Bog just grinned at his aunt and ushered the girl back to his private work place.

She requested that the tattoo be covered up by her favorite flower, a rose. Bog had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He could do roses in his sleep he did so many of them. Instead he prepped his ink and silently got to work, blazing through the intricate and delicate flower like it was nothing. A couple hours later the piece was done and he was checking the girl out at the front. As if on cue the boy with the matching tattoo shuffled into the shop. He froze when he caught sight of his ex and Bog had to stop himself from turning around and sticking his tongue out at Plum. The girl shoved her money at him and then bolted from the store, steadfastly not looking at the boy.

"Lemme guess. Ye wanna cowre up th' tattoo ye got lest month?" He leaned on the counter and spun the pen he was holding in between his fingers. The awkward look on the boy's face only got worse as he wordlessly nodded yes and a smile spread across Bog's face.

"Excellent." He murmured and then led the way back to his station. He cleaned everything down and then got to work on the Godzilla ripping out of the boy's arm. As he worked the boy chattered on endlessly about the movie, its history, the remakes, his favorite scenes. Just about anything he could think of about Godzilla. By the end of the session Bog was starting to understand why the girl had broken up with this kid. Once the piece was done and he had been paid he turned around and smirked at Plum who was angrily flipping through a magazine at her station.

"Pay up love guru." He said sarcastically and Plum reluctantly fished fifty bucks out of her wallet before throwing the cash at a still smirking Bog. She pouted as she walked over to the front counter and fixed her nephew with a determined glare.

"You're like the grinch of love." She said petulantly Bog just chuckled and bowed in acceptance of his new title.

"Yer a fool if ye think tattoos are gonna make people faa in love." He snarked as he swallowed the last of his now cold coffee. He put the mug aside mournfully and looked out at the darkening streets. It was still during business hours but a storm was rolling in that was darkening the sky and making the wind groan as it raced past their shop.

"Someday my little love recipe is going to work and then you'll be the one owing me money!" Plum huffed and Bog rolled his eyes, deciding that it would be best to ignore her, at least it was until she made one more spiteful comment.

"And I hope that it's you that falls victim to it." She smirked when Bog stiffened and turned to face her, his face as dark as thunder and his blue eyes blazing with fury.

"Ye keep yer meddlin' hans it ay mah life! Ah dornt wanna hae tae deal wi' ye an' mum. Yer almost worse than 'er!" He roared indignantly but Plum just rolled her eyes like he was a child throwing a tantrum. An observation that wasn't too far off. Neither of them noticed the roaring of a powerful engine growing closer to their shop. They also didn't notice when a deep purple motorcycle came to a stop in front of their shop.

"I'm sick of you glooming up my shop with your ban on lovey dovey tattoos you big GRINCH!" Plum screeched as the rider got off of the bike and started walking towards the door.

" Because love is dangerous. It weakens ... It rots. It destroys order. And without order, what is left? CHAOS!" Plum rolled her eyes at the familiar rant but in response Bog only raised his voice, his face turning red with the force of his anger. Plum opened her mouth to retort but someone cleared their throat pointedly. Plum's face immediately transformed into a friendly smile and they both turned to look at the woman that had waltzed into the shop like she owned the place.

"How can I help you dear?" Plum asked in a sickly sweet tone and Bog just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't evn paying attention to the customer as he stewed in his own ire. The woman spared him a glance that went unnoticed before turning her brown eyes to Plum.

"I'm here for him." She nodded to Bog who suddenly looked at her in surprise and confusion. Plum wilted a little when she realized that wasn't going to get her ink on the woman's dainty little form.

"I need a cover up. Now." Bog just nodded in shock and gestured towards his room. The woman nodded to him and led the way. Bog spared a confused glance at Plum who just shrugged and went about her business.

"You coming bean pole?" Her voice called from the back and Bog hurried after her, slightly impressed by her no nonsense tone.

" So whit can Ah dae fur ye?" He asked gruffly as he sat down in his chair. To his utter shock the woman ripped off her shirt to reveal tanned, smooth skin. She turned around and still managed to pin his startled eyes with a serious look.

"I want you to give me wings."


	2. Broken Wings

Bog knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. He was no stranger to seeing bare skin, being a tattoo artist, but he was definitely not accustomed to beautiful women, like the one standing before him, tearing their shirts off for him without a second thought. Usually it took some convincing to get people comfortable with partial nudity in front of him. But this girl didn't seem to give it a second thought. He felt like all the breath had been pulled out of his chest before he even had a chance to breathe. Blinking desperately, Bog tried to gather himself and deliver some kind of witty response, anything that would make it seem like he had been thinking rather than frantically trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

"Yer gonna hae tae be mair specific." He finally croaked out, his deep voice cracking slightly. Inwardly he cussed himself out for sounding like a teenage boy, an idiot of a teenage boy at that. But when his blue eyes looked up at the woman her soft face had pulled into a beguiling smirk. She raised an eyebrow at him and turned around so she could comfortably explain her idea to him.

Bog's eyes immediately shot skyward and his throat dried up like a desert in the summer. Now she was just casually sitting there, bare and exposed, without realizing it. His pale face turned a few interesting shades of red and a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Bog was trying his best not to freak out and as he took deep breaths through his nose he mused on the fact that he was so effected by this particular woman. He had seen boobs before, hell he had tattooed a boob once! But he still couldn't look at hers. The hidden gentleman in him balked so violently at that that he felt almost nauseous.

"What's wrong?" The woman asked and Bog almost burst out into hysterical laughter at that point. She was sitting in front of a hideous stranger, topless, and she had no idea what was wrong. He settled for letting out a strangled chuckle and gesturing to where he hoped her shirt was resting on the table. He heard the rustling of fabric and his heart decided that today was not the day to burst out of his chest and began to slow its thumping.

"Ok you're good." Her voice came from in front of him and Bog cautiously looked back to where she was sitting. She was holding the t-shirt in front of her chest casually and that damned smirk sent a thrill up his sensitive spine. Bog cleared his throat a couple of times and when it didn't help he just did what he did best and clumsily stumbled his way through.

"Sae uh... whit dae ye want me tae cowre up, an' whit dae ye want tae cowre it up wi'?" He stumbled through the sentence and breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't laugh at his attempt at communication. The woman turned around again and gestured towards the cutesy little tattoo that sat on her shoulder blade.

Bog rolled closer to get a batter look and was immediately assaulted with the smell of hyacinth and lavender. Before his brain could go on another dazed vacation he reigned in his thoughts and focused on the job, on the tattoo. It was what he did best, and it was efficient in calming him down enough to focus on the actual tattoo.

It was a dainty yellow buttercup, composed using realistic style, and beneath it the name Roland was scrawled in loopy, elegant text. The tattoo looked freshly healed, not even a month old. Bog immediately understood on a basic level. She had gotten someone's name tattooed on her back and now that person wasn't in her life anymore. A wayward part of his brain wondered if that meant that she was single but he quickly tamped it down. He reached out to touch the tattoo, wanting to feel for any scarring and as soon as his long, calloused fingers brushed over her smooth skin she flinched slightly and let out a surprised breath. Bog immediately pulled back and the cold feeling of rejection flowed through him like a tidal wave. She didn't want to be touched by the monster, no one did. He let out a little growl and suddenly it was much easier to focus on the job. However, buried deep beneath his gruff persona his brain tantalized him with thoughts about how her skin felt, how she had treated him differently, how unique she was. He didn't know that his touch had sent a blaze of sensation through the woman.

"Sae let's talk wings." He spun around and grabbed his sketch pad so he could take some rough notes and begin his sketch. The woman turned around and slid her shirt back on so quickly that he didn't notice until he looked up to get her ideas.

"Sure thing Stretch." she grinned but before she could say anything else Bog cut her off with a raised eyebrow and an unimpressed stare.

"It's Bog. Bog Kingsley." He grouched and the woman just let out a rough laugh that was the complete opposite of the tinkling giggle that he had been expecting. She just kept surprising him this one.

"Bog. Hmm...ok." She seemed to think it over as if she was validating his name in some way, which was ridiculous because it was actually his name, "I'm Marianne."

Se thrust out a hand and Bog tentatively clasped it in his much larger one. He savored the feeling of her tiny hand encompassed in his grip for a few seconds before he let it go and turned his attention back to his sketch pad. He gestured for her to start talking and she immediately began giving him the details about the piece.

An hour later she was laying out on his table like she was relaxing at home and he was putting the finishing touches on the large sketch. When he was finished he turned it around to show her. For some reason his stomach was doing flips hoping that she would approve of his vision, at first it had been hard to think of what kind of butterfly wings to put on her, but the style he had chosen felt right.

When Marianne looked at the drawing her hazel eyes opened wide in surprise and her smirk turned into a blazing smile that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. She reached out and ran her fingers over the drawing before looking up at Bog and turning the full force of her smile onto him.

"They're fucking awesome." She whispered with so much awe in her voice that Bog found his face heating up for what felt like the millionth time since she had burst into his life.

"Whit ur ye thinkin' fur colur?" He said in response, too shy to accept her praise. Marianne's brow furrowed slightly when he seemed to brush off her praise but she decided to let it go for now.

"I was thinking some deep purples and blues. I'm more into darker colors than all of that bright frilly stuff." Bog made a note on the sketch and held his tongue before he could ask why she got a yellow buttercup if she didn't like bright colors. Marianne reached for the hem of her shirt again but before she could take it off Bog's hand grabbed hers and stopped her. Bog chuckled nervously when Marianne gave him a questioning look and gestured to his work table, which needed to be set up before he could start.

"This is gonnae tak' multiple sessions. How lang can ye sit fur?" He asked as he prepped the black ink for the outline and got his supplies ready for cleaning the skin and soothing it afterwards. He wasn't expecting the snarky reply but at this point he didn't know what to expect from Marianne.

"For as long as you can tattoo." She said it like it was nothing but when Bog looked over at her with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving look she just smiled and shrugged. Bog felt a smile spread across his face and a deep chuckle burst forth from his chest as he shook his head and looked at the feisty woman sitting on his table. It was the first time since she walked in that he actually got a chance to take in her appearance. She had short brown hair that rested messily on her head in a way that was almost fitting now that he had gotten a taste of her personality. Her eyes were accented by a dark blue eye shadow and her lips were painted with faintly purple lipstick. She was wearing black jeans and a long red top, thankfully. Her clunky black combat boots could have been the twins to his own if they weren't decorated with swirling gold designs drawn with gold sharpie. She cut an impressive figure and as Bog put on his sterile black gloves she stripped off her shirt once more and put it under her chest so that she could comfortably lay on her stomach.

Bog, relieved that she had picked up on the fact that he was ready to begin, grabbed his custom machine and rolled his chair over to the small stereo in the back. He cued up his favorite mix of classic rock and rockabilly and hummed along to 'Back in Black' as he rolled over to where Marianne lay waiting for him. The machine clasped in his long fingers had been handmade for him by his friend and metal worker Brutus and looked like a tangled mess of black briar vines encircling a wooden B. It was Bog's favorite machine and he only used it for his favorite tattoos. He had decided that this occasion was one of those.

"We're only gonna dae th' ootline today." Bog said calmly as he started up the machine and a faint buzzing filled the room. He gently rested a hand on her back to keep her steady but this time she didn't flinch, rather she seemed to relax under his calming touch. "Lit me know if ye need a break Tough Girl."

He gave her the nickname unconsciously but as soon as the words fell off of his tongue he knew that it was meant for her. She gave him an amused snort before settling back into position for him to start. Bog placed the stencil over her back and then peeled in back to reveal the purple outline that he had to go over today. Bog leaned forward, his tall form hunched over so that his warm breath brushed over her skin, and pressed the needle into her skin.

When Bog tattooed he went to another place, a calm peaceful place where it was only him and the art that he was creating. He usually went quiet and stayed quiet during his sessions so that all of his focus was on the piece. It was usually very disconcerting for his customers but as long the tattoo turned out okay they were usually happy. Today though, his 'happy place' was different. He was actually aware of Marianne as he was tattooing her. He felt comfortable breaking his usual silence, if only he could think of something to talk about.

After a chunk of time where Marianne got used to the tickling painful sensation of the needle and Bog got into his groove with the design, Marianne broke the silence.

"I'm sure you're curious about the story behind the tattoo." She chuckled barely so as not to jostle Bog and ruin his delicate outline work. Bog never looked away from his work but his deep voice replied anyways.

" Mah mum taught me better than tae pry intae other people's lives." He paused and shifted slightly farther up Marianne's back, "But Ah willnae deny 'at Ah am curious." Marianne let out another little chuckle and as Bog steadily worked up the left side of her back she began to tell her story.

"I almost got married two weeks ago." That statement alone caused Bog's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. He had assumed that she and her boyfriend had broken up, nothing as serious as a fiancée, "He didn't really love me, but I didn't find that out until the day before." She let out a shuddering sigh and her voice was filled with a myriad of emotions as she spoke. Bog wanted to tell her that she could stop, that they didn't have to talk about this, but for some reason he had a feeling that she needed to talk about this.

"I went over to his apartment to give him a boutonniere that I had made for him but..." She paused for a moment and Bog felt her body tense up for a second before she let out a deep breath and relaxed once more. He placed his free hand on her lower back in what he hope was a comforting touch.

"One of my bridesmaids opened the door and I could see Roland laying on the couch naked. He had been cheating on me the day before the wedding, and probably for a lot longer than that." Bog felt his grip on the machine tighten and he gritted his teeth in an effort to hold back the white hot flare of anger than manifested as she told her story. Any man that cheated on a woman as beautiful as this had to be the dumbest man in the world. If Marianne was his he would never... Bog stopped that train of thought in its tracks and quickly buried it in the back of his mind to be addressed later. Right now was about listening to Marianne.

"And then he has the nerve to come to the door and try to explain it away. So I punched him as hard as I could. He dropped like a fucking rock. It was the most satisfying thing that I have ever done." Bog smirked but said nothing as he moved farther up to her shoulder, skirting around the offending piece of art and the man that he hated without ever having met him, "And the rest is history. I called off the wedding and decided that no one needed to know what he did. I was done with it all."

Bog waited a second to make sure that she was done before he finally spoke, "Ye didne mention how ye got th' ink." He pointed out and Marianne let out another breathy little chuckle that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Maybe he needed to get his heart checked because this many skips in one day could not be healthy.

"It was Roland's idea. He said if I trusted him I would let him get me a surprise tattoo. I was an idiot in love so I said yes and I got it. I've always hated the dumb thing. Feels like a brand. I should have known he was a dirt bag when he refused to do the same thing for me." She let out a frustrated snort and Bog's free hand unconsciously caressed the small of her back in an attempt to get her to calm down. They sat in silence for a little while before Bog decided that an exchange was the best way to dispel the awkwardness that had decided to settle between the two of them.

"Be glad 'at ye didne gie matchin' tattoos." His voice was low and laced with emotion and past regrets. He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably as if she could see through his heavy leaves to find the mistake he had hidden from the world.

"You speak from experience?" Marianne asked quietly and the lingering emotion in her voice suddenly made Bog comfortable enough to let his own tale spill from his lips.

"Aye." He took a deep breath and frantically tried to control the rolling sea in his stomach. He could make it through this story, he could bare himself just like she had done. Something about her made him comfortable telling his story even though part of him was screaming for him to keep the secret and keep her from coming to the same realization that Bella had come to.

"Ah was in loove wi' a lass." His story was halting and slow but Marianne never once interrupted or tried to change the topic. She just listened.

"I got Plum tae dae matchin' tattoos an' 'en a week later she dumped me fur someain else." Bog gulped and forced his hand not to shake as he traced a line back down Marianne's back, dancing around the dip in her back where her spine was. He struggled with the next words and when they finally came out it was barely loud enough for Marianne to hear over the buzz of the machine and the music in the background.

"She said Ah was tay hideous tae love."

Bog felt Marianne's body stiffen and she turned her head to the side so that she was looking up at Bog as best as she could. He tried not to meet her gaze but she was silently demanding that he look at her so he reluctantly turned his thin sharp face and sad blue eyes towards her. The buzz of the machine was silenced as he stopped his work. Marianne pinned him with her gaze and he felt like he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

"You're not hideous. She was a dumbass." She said abruptly before turned her head back around to hide her blush. Bog was not as fortunate because at that moment his face was read and his heart was pounding so hard that he couldn't even hear the music over the sound. He let a tiny smile escape his control and turned back to his work on her back so that he could ignore the warm feeling that started in his gut and rose up through his body. It didn't work.

They spent the next couple of hours talking about nothing and everything. The barriers between strangers had been eviscerated when they had shared their heartbreak. All of the sudden they were arguing like old friends and debating like best friends. It made the hours go by quickly and tucked away in Bog's private station neither noticed when the sun went down and nighttime set in. By the time Bog had finished the outline it was way past when he was supposed to be at the bar. He knew that only because his phone had started blowing up an hour ago. Bog looked over the outline, examining the line consistency and making sure that everything matched up before he turned off his machine and sat up.

His back cracked and he let out a little crown as he cracked his knuckles and his neck as well. He gently wiped down the tattoo and taped a protective sheet of plastic wrap over the irritated skin. Marianne got up and slid her shirt back on as he busied himself with cleaning up his station and packing up for the night. He glanced at his phone and groaned when he saw thirty text messages and ten calls from his mother.

He turned around and found Marianne watching him with interest and a small smile on her face. He froze under her gaze and his cheeks were still flaming as he led her out of his station and into the dark shop. Plum had already gone home for the night so the shop was peaceful for once. Now that he was standing next to Marianne, Bog realized that she was a lot smaller than him. He towered over everyone, but this fact came as a surprise because back in that room he had felt like they were equals, in everything. At the same time he found it oddly endearing how he looked standing next to the little spitfire. He quickly shook himself and took the payment that Marianne offered to him.

She seemed to linger reluctantly by the door as Bog shut everything down for the night, making sure that Plum had locked everything. Once he was satisfied that the shop was locked down for the night he walked out. He was surprised to find Marianne standing next to her motorcycle, her helmet in her hand, and her bottom lip caught securely by her teeth. She looked like she was heavily considering something and Bog found himself intrigued enough to stand awkwardly outside the shop, waiting for her. He was about to say something when Marianne got a determined look on her face and stepped closer to him.

Bog's hands tightened into fists at his side and he held his breath in anticipation, she was killing him with anticipation.

"Wanna go get a drink?" She finally asked, trying to play it off a casual, but the excited nervousness that danced in her eyes was so painfully obvious that Bog was secure in the sincerity of the invitation. He gulped audibly and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck nervously.

"Um yeah." He gained confidence and he smiled large enough to reveal his crooked teeth to her, something he rarely did. His confidence soared as her smile grew and he shoved his idle hands into his pockets, "Sounds guid Tough Girl. Ah know jist th' place."

He offered his arm to her on a whim and Marianne gladly wrapped her arm around his. With a saucy smirk from her and a nervous smile from him, they were off.


End file.
